The beer garden of the Prince of Wales pub heaved with drinkers enjoying the uncharacteristically warm spring evening. Their group dominated one of the large wooden tables, their excited chatter no doubt irritating the regulars still huddled inside the gloom of the pub’s interior, nursing their pints.
After the hike, the group had decided to stay the extra night, filling the town’s two tiny bed and breakfast-style hotels, to the delight of the owners, no doubt. Dan had planned to travel back to Derbyshire tonight, but having discovered Eden was staying, he changed his plans, refusing to dissect his motives. It meant a five am start tomorrow and risking rush hour traffic so he wouldn’t be late for his shift, which began at ten. But after his cock-up this morning on the hill, he’d vowed to try and speak to her again. No way would he allow the sun to set on her outrageously low opinions of herself. And it had been his fault, after all. He’d bungled it, so shocked by her kiss and his instantaneous reaction to it, he’d muffed his words, leaving her feeling rejected. Nothing further from the truth.
But he wasn’t an opportunist. The kind of man to shag someone vulnerable on a Welsh hillside and walk away, job done. And despite the way she’d glared at him, deep down he knew Eden wasn’t a casual sex kind of girl. Not anymore, even if she had once been. He’d had his share of hook-ups, long ago, before Megan, medical students notorious party-lovers, after all.
Dan sucked a mouthful of his pint, the cold liquid sliding down his throat, which was tight with impatience. A most uncharacteristic emotion for him, and one he had no desire to make friends with. Fuck. He needed to explain.
Eden had resolutely ignored him for the remainder of the day. Prickles danced beneath his skin like a bout of chicken pox. And not the good kind of prickles, either. The bad kind. The kind he never usually succumbed to. She was so completely … infuriating. Jumping to conclusions—the wrong conclusions—refusing to back down or even to listen, verbally lashing out. Why had he let her get to him? Why couldn’t he stay away? He’d managed to avoid entanglement for two years, much to Amelia’s disgust.
But the kiss. Her soft lips, her moan, her fingers warm and impatient in his hair. His body had reacted to her with embarrassing eagerness, and it had taken every ounce of strength he possessed to pull back, to crush the moment. But he had. Out of a sense of propriety? Loyalty to a ghost? Or plain old fear?
His eyes sought her out for the umpteenth time, burning when they settled on their prize. She sat surrounded by men, most of them, like her, armed forces. She seemed comfortable enough, her shy smile peeking out every now and then at some particularly bawdy joke or barrack room anecdote. But her dark eyes regularly slid sideways to the exit. This time, when she escaped, he would be ready.
Which is how, ten minutes later, he found himself loitering in the car park at the front of the pub, waiting for her to emerge. She’d made her excuses, citing exhaustion for her early departure from the revelry. But to Dan’s advantage, she’d ducked into the ladies toilet en route to her escape. Time to stage an ambush.
Her hackles rose when she spotted him and his heart sank. Guard up, defences fortified, mind made up, eh Archer? So be it.
‘I’m tired.’ Her head dipped as she strode passed him and headed for the road that would take her the short walk back to the hotel where they’d both be staying tonight.
‘Archer.’ His voice had never sounded more like a bark, but she kept going, her back rigid. ‘Wait, will you?’ Dan lengthened his stride, until he easily kept pace with her.
His gut tightened even as he dug deep for his famous reserve of patience. ‘So let’s get this straight. You spend weeks pushing me away, and then you expect me to suddenly turn it on because you come over all sentimental on top of hill, staring at the sunrise?’
She scoffed, her head shaking out her obvious disbelief, but she remained silent, her stare trained on the footpath in front of her pounding feet.
Time to rattle her cage a little. ‘If you want to date, fine. But let me catch my breath here.’
That did it. She spun on him, eyes blazing and her visible hand clenched by her side. ‘I don’t want to date.’ Her rose pink lips smacked together as she spat out the word. ‘Especially not you.’
She was so gloriously riled up, sparks of gold flashing in her eyes and chest all puffed out. He wanted to laugh before kissing her until she used her mouth only for good. Dan held up his hands in supplication. ‘Hey, you kissed me.’
Air gusted from her flared nostrils. ‘Well don’t worry. It was a moment of insanity that won’t be happening again.’ She stormed off, crossing the country lane towards their picturesque ivy-clad hotel.
Dan checked for traffic and trotted across the road, quickly catching up to her.
‘I get it, Archer. I understand.’ He softened his tone to the one he used when kids came into A&E, their terrified eyes huge round windows to their souls.
‘What do you get, Dr Dan?’ She slammed into the hotel, pulling her room key from her pocket.
Dan followed her down the carpeted corridor and up the narrow, creaking staircase. He didn’t want to do this here, to show her he saw the vulnerabilities she tried so hard to hide. Exposing her would sting. Better she think him a do-gooding, arrogant arse.
Fortunately, the landing was as deserted as the downstairs entrance. He reached for her arm, his hand falling to his side when she tugged it away and glared.
He longed to tear his own hair out. Whatever he said or did now would make everything worse. Make her hate him more. He sucked a deep breath in through his nose, deciding on honesty. ‘I didn’t want to stop kissing you this morning. I don’t feel those things you accused me of.’ He glanced up at the ceiling, seeking inspiration from the yellowing paintwork. Her self-esteem was balanced on a sharp peak, and she could fall either way.
‘Prove it.’
His head snapped upright. ‘What?’
Her hand fisted on the curve of her hip, her eyes huge in the gloom of the low wattage lighting. ‘You don’t find me physically repulsive?’ A sneer lifted her top lip. ‘You think I’m feminine, attractive?’ She jutted out her chin. ‘Prove it.’
Dan hovered. Damn, she truly believed her own bullshit propaganda. Thought she’d call his bluff and watch him slink away. Well, fuck that.
She grinned, part grimace with a glint of triumph. ‘Goodnight, Dr Dan.’ She turned away and crossed the short distance to her door across the landing.
In two strides he was there, spinning her around and swallowing her startled gasp with his kiss. Tension uncoiled in him, flooding his muscles with pent-up energy until he tightened his grip on her, crushing her small body against his. He almost growled out his triumph when her hand reached for the back of his neck as he continued to work his lips over hers, teasing them apart, warm and pliant.
When she opened her mouth, her tongue surging to battle with his, he groaned, reality clawing at his rapidly diminishing reason.
He ended the kiss with one last firm press of his mouth, his determined stare latching on to her bewildered one. He pulled her hand from his neck, his fingers clasping hers with firm, unyielding pressure. If he let her slip away now, he’d blow it for good. Wether they acknowledged it or not, this step scaled a peak higher than any the Ruby Challenge could offer. For both of them.
She followed him across the short distance to his room, their footfalls quiet on the dated patterned carpet. An unspoken truce insinuated itself into the expectant silence. Despite her dare, mocking him to act, this wasn’t a game. Their chemistry, as inexplicable as it seemed to both of them, muscled in and wouldn’t be drugged, gagged or bound.
Inside the room, he closed the door, backing her up against the wood, his neck resisting the tug she exerted to bring their mouths back together. Heat swelled and unfurled inside him, awakening the deepest corners of him, brushing away dust and cobwebs in its wake. Why her? This brittle, bruised woman? How had she bypassed his defences where others had failed?
And still he’d yet to convince her. Her huge dark eyes held traces of doubt, their vulnerability snaking into his chest to coil like a vine, with the torturous path of his own.
Pain. The emotional variety that set us apart as species. Its power to shape us, a humbling reminder of our fragility.
But Eden wasn’t fragile. He didn’t see her that way. Her strength poured from her in waves of grit, determination and resilience. Could he make her see?
She grew impatient beneath him, doubt creeping back in to her stare. Grinding his hips into her belly, he crushed his erection between them, his eyes practically rolling back in his head. ‘I want you.’ He lowered his mouth to hers, welcoming her answering kiss and the sexy whimper escaping her throat. Hear that. Believe.
Need spiked inside him, tainting his blood until he feared he’d scare her away with its raw power. But she was with him, her hand fumbling at his waistband, yanking his shirt free, even as her mouth clung to his.
Determined to make himself heard, Dan pulled back from the kiss, her swollen pouty lips wet with their combined saliva calling to him on some primal level he’d believed long extinct.
Cupping her face, he tunnelled his fingertips through her silky straight hair, which had loosened from its ponytail and formed a wispy cloud around her flushed face.
He licked his own lips, formulating a measured and undeniable message. ‘You’re not attractive, Archer. You’re breathtaking.’ His thumbs glided over the skin of her jaw, tracing the delicate outline of her features with a reverence that made her whimper.
She pushed away from the door, shunting him off balance and backwards towards the bed.
She deftly worked his fly open with one hand, her gorgeous face a picture of concentration that punched his groin with a flood of heat. When she lifted her wide eyes back to his, lust and a hint of uncertainty swilling in the dark depths, he took her hand, pulling her down onto the bed beside him. ‘Let’s slow this down. There’s no rush.’
He gave her no time to object, cupping her face once more for another round of her delicious, breathy kisses. He lost himself—the taste of her, the bold swipes of her tongue, the way she scraped her teeth across his lower lip. He could kiss her for hours. Days.
But she grew restless, tugging once more at his shirt until he relented, helping her to remove the garment. It snagged on his chin, and when he finally grappled himself free, they both laughed, breaking the awkwardness of the moment, he suspected, for both of them.
Eden scanned his naked torso, her fingers tracing a path from the smattering of hair covering his pecs to the ridges of his abdomen. Her tentative touch held a reverence, a softness that surprised him, as if she enjoyed touching him as much as he enjoyed her touch.
When her knuckles dragged at the waistband of his cotton boxers, he groaned, standing abruptly to shuck his trousers, socks and boots. His body ran from hot to cold and back again, the urge to go slow and savour every second of this moment warring with the primal needs of his testosterone-laden body. His teeth scraped at the inside of his cheek, the twinge of pain grounding him, forcing him to breathe deeply.
Her eyes scanned the rest of him, growing impossibly rounder. But as he leant over her, she gripped his arm, pulling him back down so their mouths met.
‘Kiss me.’ Her words gusted over his tingling lips between kisses, and he pushed her back, joining her on the bed until they lay side by side, him on her left.
Her short nails raked his shoulder as he deepened the kiss and slid his hand from her still-clothed shoulder to cup her breast through the thin fabric.
She was small, pert, perfect, filling his hand, responsive and needy. She arched off the bed and he wondered if it had been as long for her as it had for him. Her fingers flexed, digging into him to the point of pain, but he didn’t complain. She was lost and he’d taken her there.
Her whimpers encouraged him and he slid his hand south, skimming her belly and settling between her legs. He cupped her through her trousers and she spread her legs.
‘Touch me, Dan.’
He’d take those kind of orders from Captain Archer anytime. He worked the button and zip with one hand, his mouth trailing over her jaw and the sensitive softness of her elegant neck.
She helped him, and soon she was naked from the waist down. ‘That’s all.’ A flash of hesitation, but her meaning clear. She wasn’t ready to fully trust him, to be naked with him. But he’d take what she could give. He’d never been ruled by his ego.
He gave a quick nod, letting her know he understood before perusing the view of her bottom half with unapologetic candour. She was beautiful, her slim shapely legs, her delicate feet with pink painted toes and the perfect little triangle of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. He could stare for hours, his legendary patience a blessing, but she wasn’t having that.
With an impatient little mewl, she tugged on his shoulders, bringing his mouth back down to hers, then repositioned his hand from her ribs, guiding it straight to her sex. ‘Touch me.’
Oh he would. But he wanted to savour. To take his time. To enjoy this softer side of her. She knew what she wanted and was totally in control of her life. But she’d left her attitude at the bedroom door and that had thrown him, knocking down his preconceived judgements and notching up his attraction to her, tenfold.
She writhed under his touch, her hips lifting to meet the tease and slide of his fingers against her creamy folds. Her breath gusted against his face in rapid little pants and her mewling grew louder as she abandoned herself to the pleasure. Uninhibited. Demanding. Perfect. And so responsive.
He longed to taste the hard little nipple he’d felt earlier through her clothing. He’d bet his last breath she could come just from having her breasts sucked and teased. But he shelved his urges, respectful of her boundaries. They had time.
With two more swipes, she was there, her climax a loud wail that tore her mouth from his as her fingers clawed at his shoulder. He dragged it out, lessening the pressure of his fingertips’ rapid swirling as he gazed down at her face, which was contorted in rapture, eyes scrunched close.
Heat blossomed inside his chest. Heat that had nothing to do with his painfully throbbing arousal or his body’s needs raging through his bloodstream.
She’d opened herself to him, believing hateful things about herself. Things she’d perhaps learned the hard way.
Dark thoughts shifted something cold and hard in his chest. If he ever saw that ex of hers again …
Her smile distracted him from the dark path his thoughts had taken.
‘Mmm …’ She writhed like a cat, slowly opening her eyes to floor him with her honest and open beauty. ‘Thanks.’ She unfurled her fingers from his shoulder, which was, no doubt, marked with indentations from her nails, and slipped her hand between their bodies to caress him through his boxers.
Instead of the surge of lust he’d been expecting, the heaviness in his groin recoiled as if she’d dropped a bucket of ice in his lap. Fuck …
Eden shimmied out from under him, the wicked gleam of her stare raking down his torso to the point where her hand stroked his erection.
He slammed his eyes shut. Her intention was clear, confirmed by the first brush of her lips on his spasming abdomen. Focus. Fuck, not now.
He tensed his thighs, trying to keep the blood pooled in his groin as her mouth glided south to meet up with her working hand.
His brain, freefalling into panic alley, stalled and he sucked air through his nostrils. It’s been over two years. Fuck man, get a grip. You want this. Open your eyes. Watch her.
His lamentations grew increasingly frantic as he tried to talk himself back from the ledge. But as the shock of cold air heralded the removal of his boxers and Eden’s fingers curled around his bare cock, he feared the worst.
She kissed him then, the press of her soft swollen lips to the sensitive head of his cock so unexpected, he felt a surge of renewed hope. ‘Eden …’ He cupped her head, pushing the hair back from her pleasure-softened face, and she smiled up at him, the tip of her tongue peeking out to replace her lips. Her playful grin turned wicked and she twisted her head, her lips puckering and her kiss grazing his palm. Grazing his ring finger. Grazing his wedding band.
Fuck.
‘Stop.’ It came out way harsher than he wanted, him more startled than her, although perhaps not, judging by the expression on her face. Ice replaced his blood, settling in his chest like a frozen brick.
What had he done? What a mess.
The shutters fell, closing her down as her expression hardened.
Dan shifted, righting his boxers to cover his diminishing hard-on, the heat of earlier now rushing to his neck and throat. ‘No. Look—’
‘It’s okay.’ She scrambled off the bed, her face hidden behind the tangled curtains of her hair, and reached for her discarded panties.
His gaze dipped to the perfectly rounded curves of her gorgeous arse and he swallowed bile. Too late now, fuckwit.
‘Fuck, Eden,’ Dan grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements. ‘It’s … It’s not you, okay?’ Even to his own ears it sounded lame. How had he made such a monumental mess of this? What was wrong with him? He’d made things between them, things for her, ten times worse. And why? Because he was an arsehole. Because he’d wallowed in self-pity so long, he’d forgotten how to do anything else. Because out of habit he’d continued to wear a symbol of his past life. A life that was long gone. He’d hurt her, someone at the very limits of vulnerable. Someone who’d been hurt enough. His throat burned, nausea close behind.
‘It’s okay.’ She yanked on the panties, her shining eyes scanning the floor for her trousers.
He stood, the still present, albeit small, bulge in his boxers, mocking him. Mocking them both. A sigh built beneath his ribs, one so big, he was scared to set it free.
Releasing her wrist, he slid his fingers down to hers, squeezing. ‘Please listen.’ His throat dried. He was as exposed as a man could be. Stood before a fucking wet dream of a woman, naked but for his failing hard-on.
For a moment she wavered, her gaze flicking to the door. But then she swallowed, her shoulders squaring and her chin jutting forward.
Her shield was back. He deserved that. ‘I’m sorry.’ He cleared his throat, willing his saliva to return and make this speech a little easier. ‘It’s been a long time for me. You’re a beautiful woman.’ He snorted, his head shaking. ‘A fucking goddess.’
She gave nothing away, and if it wasn’t for the continued presence of her warm but still fingers in his hand, he’d have thought it was all over.
Dan glanced down at their entwined hands, his left and her right, his worn wedding band glinting in the room’s dim lighting like a beacon pinpointing his failure. ‘There’s been no one since Megan, and she died two years ago. Cancer.’
She nodded. This wasn’t all new information to her. He’d have to dig a little deeper. ‘I want you, Archer.’ He emphasised the bite of his words with the squeeze of his fingers around hers. ‘I haven’t wanted anyone else since.’ He snorted out a humourless laugh. ‘I guess my body didn’t get the memo that I’m ready.’ He shrugged, his smile feeling alien on his face.
‘It’s okay, Dan. Really.’ She backed away a half-pace, her voice quiet as if speaking to a child or an injured animal. ‘I’m gonna go.’
‘No. Please stay.’ Fuck, could he sound more needy? ‘I want you to stay.’ He glanced at the bed, the rumpled sheets fanfaring his immense, emasculating failure.
She hesitated, her eyes caressing the door and escape. He should let her go. But he wouldn’t have her believe this had anything to do with her. Anything to do with her injuries. Anything to do with anything, other than his messed-up, fucking brain.
He tugged her forward until their chests crashed. His mouth had been away from hers for far too long. She softened, the fight in her draining away with each swipe of his lips. ‘Please stay. I’ll feel like a total dick if you leave now. Excuse the pun.’
She lifted her chocolate-brown eyes to him, seeing him far too clearly for his liking, and nodded.
One small, decisive nod.
But he’d take it.
* * *
He shot awake, a bolus of adrenaline slamming through his body, working his muscles reflexively to jerk him into a sitting position. Expecting the shrill wake-up call of a pager, his eyes darted around the pitch-black room as his brain fought to play catch-up.
Again. The movement that had awakened him. Eden lay beside him in the unfamiliar bed, her face buried in the pillow and the sheets and duvet a tangled mass around her lower half. Her body jerked, her hand shooting out to connect with his leg, and she emitted a low-pitched, muffled groan. A dream?
Now fully awake, he took in her sleeping form. She’d fallen asleep still wearing her top and panties, having removed only her bra. As she stilled, his gaze followed the triangle of moonlight slanting in from the chink in the curtain, projecting onto her smooth back where her top had ridden up in the night.
He curled his fingers into the bedding to stop himself tracing her skin with an inquisitive fingertip. She was restless enough—he didn’t want to wake her. His stare drifted, following the arch of her spine and the curve of her flank. The skin here was scarred—pink, gnarled bumps he’d seen enough times to know they were burns. What had happened to her? He could guess. He could have snooped in her medical file. Could probably even do an internet search on her. But he’d prefer it if she confided in him. After all, he’d made a complete idiot of himself tonight. And everyone had a past they’d rather didn’t exist.
The mattress juddered and Eden began to thrash in earnest, her legs and arms flailing like she was struck by an epileptic seizure. But it was the animalistic wailing in her throat that launched him from the bed to fumble with the bedside light, before reaching out a hand to gently shake her awake.
She emerged from the nightmare, sweat-soaked and dazed, her huge dark eyes wildly scanning the room and pants gusting in and out of her flared nostrils.
‘It’s okay. Eden, it’s Dan. It’s okay. You were dreaming.’ He gingerly extended his hand, slowly brushing the damp hair from her face so as not to startle her with any sudden movements.
Her composure returned quickly, her mouth pinching and the muscles of her jaw bunching. ‘I’m okay.’ She battled free of the tangled covers and stumbled to the room’s ensuite bathroom.
She spent an age in there, and Dan righted the bedding, turning down the sheets and clicking off the bedside lamp. He fully expected her to leave when she emerged, but she joined him once more in the bed, her body rigid beside his, not touching.
Their joint breaths composed a rhythmic lullaby, neither of then succumbing quickly to sleep. ‘Want to talk about it?’ he whispered, his palm twitching to reach for her hand beneath the covers. To offer what comfort he could. The memory of his own sleepless nights following Megan’s death all too fresh in his consciousness.
‘No.’ She sighed, a tidal wave of frustrated air. ‘Do me a favour, Dr Dan. Have a night off.’ The mattress shifted, bringing her back in to view. Impotence clawed at him. She owed him nothing. She’d made it clear she despised his profession. And after his performance tonight, or lack of one, he had enough of his own demons to explain without prodding at hers.
When he woke with the dawn, she was gone.